Drabbles
by Wunderlind
Summary: This is a collection of brain bunnies that appear when I'm struggling to write an actual timeline. Chapters may come from any one of my several stories, even though some many not be published.
1. When Silence Needs to be Broken

(This story stars Kano Iketayama (Niko) as a love interest of Kisame. This takes place after being on the frontlines of war where no person has privacy and all tensions are sky high.)

It wasn't fair how he always seemed to just slip away, sliding like water through his fingers and escaping everything. Kisame leant his forehead to the wooden door, a sigh leaving his lips as he tried to fight the urge to break it down.

"Niko-chan… it sounds like we need to talk…"

There weren't any thumps or the sound of any movement, but the smell of wood polish grew strong, and he could recall the wiry man mumbling something of touching up his Biwa after the last skirmish. Polish was expensive, and not something that the bard tended to really do often for the pungent smell it left that tended to throw off Kisame in battle, leaving the action till the moments where he wanted to be alone or when Kisame would be gone for a while.

"Niko-chan, that isn't going to stop me this time."

Turning the doorknob Kisame was carefully slow, quick to step back as the door swung open, just in case something was thrown, and then peeking in cautiously when nothing was.

Niko was sitting on top of his pillow, the Biwa carefully perched in his lap as he worked the polish into the wood, long dark hair tangled and loose, only clad in a pair of Kisame's old pants that hung off him too much to be decent.

Kisame could feel his throat grow tight, the smells of the room becoming dizzying as that sharp scent was found underneath the polish, his partner's heartbeat skyrocketing the longer he looked, even if the deceptively dazed eyes were focused on the instrument. "Hey Niko-chan."

He plodded over, gently twisting and combing the messy locks of hair of the smaller man, "I never understood why you kept it so long if you hated caring for it, y'know."

The scent that had been maddening for the past month grew stronger as Niko tensed, not a single sound leaving the musician as Kisame ran treacherous fingers from root to end gently. The both worked silently for a few minutes, Kisame suffocating under the weight of what he wanted to say, what needed to be said, and the knowledge that Niko could escape if he so wished to. Damn Saboteur.

He didn't still as the majority of the noxious polish vanished, no matter how his senses jerked to life.

Niko's head lolled back a bit, into his hands more.

"I keep it long because you don't like it messy. You'll come fix it."

The familiar whispery rasp, akin to a smoker's drawl, was hesitant, scared.

Kisame hm'd, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest as he worked his fingers deeper into the mess.

"Kisame… I-I didn't…"

A sharp tug disrupted the burgeoning lie, "Stop. Don't start now."

A deep sigh left him.

"I want."

Kisame let his hands fall from his partner's hair to his shoulders, steering them to facilitate Niko turning around. Niko's face was red, lazy eyes staring down at the polish stained fingers in his lap, shoulders hunched protectively. He was the very picture of defensive and it made Kisame's inside snarl, his inner shark thrashing his control.

He cupped Niko's cheek, so small and fragile in his large palm, thumb running over his eye, "Yeah? You want Niko? What do you want? Spell it out for me."

The dull eyes pop open, staring into Kisame's beady black. He tried to calm as he began to breathing in more and more of the maddening, intoxicating smell, wondering how anyone could ever overlook these deep green coloured eyes, not a single fleck of another colour in them, pure jade deep set into the face of a fallen angel.

That's what Niko was, full of vengeance and spite, fallen from the heavens, just for him.

The precious stones shined before being concealed by tightly shut eyelids, the man shuffling closer to Kisame and twisting fingers into his sweat stained shirt.

"I want Kisame, I want you, The tailless tailed beast, land shark, the monster of the bloody mist. I want Kisame."

He pulled the chapped lips up to meet his, devouring the mouth that finally, finally asked.

It wasn't sweet, not gentle. It was everything like how he fought, tongue and teeth attacking, savouring the taste of blood as the victim fought back. Niko didn't take that shit though, he fought dirty, biting back just as hard and using his hands to pull at Kisame's hair, anything to get the upper hand.

By the end Niko was straddling Kisame's hips, having been scooped into his lap, with a thick limb wound around his lower back and levering him close. His own hands were on Kisame's shoulders, their foreheads pressed together as each licked the blood off of their lips.

"You have me Niko. You have my trust, my loyalty, you have me."

The lean bard settled down onto his lap carefully, jarring both of their erections as he kissed Kisame's neck.

"Kano. Iketayama Kano."

Kisame pressed him down onto the floor, covering every inch of his body with his own, a wide grin stretching his lips wide and showcasing his sharp teeth.

"Kano."

He buried his face into the pale neck, inhaling deeply, "Do you know how you smell? It's been driving me mad, always when we're close for the past couple years, everytime.."

Kano wigled, red stains creeping down his chest with their heat as Kisame continued, "And it's not like I knew what it was, not until last month… do you remember?"

Not even giving him a chance to reply, Kisame plowed on, "Letting me catch you like that, _so sloppy,_ so impatient, huh? You couldn't wait for me to figure out myself?"

A hand dug into worn pants as Kano's eyes lidded and sore whimpers passed his lips. He jerked like he'd been shocked as teeth dug into his neck and the hand withdrew, Kisame's hips slotting between his own to buck and drive them both into a fire of desire. Sweat poured off of them, their apartment humid and muggy as they humped like bunnies, hands locked together and threatening to break.

Kisame was awed at the sheer emotion that they showed; Kano nearly crying, jade eyes flashing with caring and vulnerability, innocent in ways that he never would've expected but made sense for a fallen angel, and the weak sounds that fell from unattended lips, so sweet and shy. Kisame felt vindicated that he was able to do this by just humping the man with their pants on, but it didn't mean that he wasn't just as affected: his skin flushed and mind heavy with possessive claim and heat, he was bending his partner into what would've been painful contortions should Kano been anyone else, handling him with ease and taking all he wanted from the man.

Kano let out the closest Kisame had ever heard a scream from the man as he climaxed, limbs lined with tension as his pants grew wet. Kisame growled to him as he came himself, settling down on top of him contentedly.

Clothes were shucked after Kisame insisted, and they curled together on Kano's floor, his cloak draped over them as they rested better than they had in weeks.


	2. The Day Before a Mission

(This story Stars Yoshino Nara as an Inserty OC who identifies as male, falls within the specialization of saboteur, and Civilian Borne and still love interests with Shikaku Nara)

He didn't look surprised to see me, just stepped back from the door to let me enter.

"Okaa-chan is on the rotation that left today. Oyaji has been picked up for the hospital. I was gonna see about going to Cho's for dinner, but if you wanna cook… it would save a trip…"

He was grinning at me lazily, oblivious to my growing panic and nervousness, so I tried to cover it with a scoff, ruffling my newly cut hair as I marched past him and into the kitchen,

"Maa, I better, poor Chouza, having to put up with your laziness all the time…"

He seated himself at the table, pulling out a travel based shogi board as I raided the cupboards and fridge for supplies.

"How about tempura? And yakisoba? You have stuff for miso and fish, but that's _booooring_…"

I turned to him with a grin, he sighed at me, a smile stretching his lips even as the put upon sound left his lips,

"Make a portion for Oyaji too, yeah? I don't think he'll be home until late. And you get first move."

I nodded thoughtfully as I passed him, moving my first piece, and then shuffling back to acquire all the needed utensils.

Shikaku lets out amused snorts as I climbed up cupboards and stretched onto the tips of my toes to get things, I threw vegetables at him and told him to slice in retaliation.

The board migrated over to a counter and we were slow in making moves, cooking taking up time that might usually be occupied by just talking and planning.

In the end, as we waited on the noodles, Shika thrashed me again, and we reset the board.

We didn't fill the silence between us, content to eat and play the game of strategy. Nothing needed to be said between us, we knew almost everything about the other, so when Shikaku did speak, I was surprised.

"Yoshino-chibi, do you want to stay the night? You just got home and your apartment is empty, after all…"

I passed him my egg, munching on carrots thoughtfully, "Sure Shika-peko, your sheets are softer anyway."

We continued to eat quietly, Shikaku beginning to fill me in on what I missed: Kushina's latest pranks, the frenzy that Fugaku entered after I left him to his own devices in R&D and his burgeoning friendship with Oro-kun that scared the genin, Mikoto's prowess with subtle Genjutsu leading her to assist Kushina in pranks for the sake of _training _(we both cracked up at that), and then finally, the discussion of marriage that he had had with his parents.

"...I get to pick my future now, y'know?"

He's looking at me, eyes childlike and wide, and I don't know what to say, so I just smile, hoping it doesn't look like a grimace. His eyes dim a bit, and he looks down to his plate, his chopsticks trace the patterns on the dish, and he fully looks his 16 years, young and vulnerable. I look down too, to give him a sort of privacy.

"I wish that I wasn't heir."

My back cracks as I look back to him. His eyes are screaming and it makes my insides scream in pain, "Though, our clan is pretty relaxed, especially compared to the twins'... I just…"

I'm quiet, an ear to listen to him, my grasp on my chopsticks tightening as we keep eye contact, "I feel obligated, I guess… to provide the next heir…"

He slumps.

My will breaks and I slid over to his side of the table to lay my head against his shoulder, my arm wrapping around his waist, "Shika-kun, you know just as well as me, your clan just wants you to be happy, wants you to be strong and to survive. Ensui's accepted here, and not a single person thinks any different of him, you would be too. There are other ways to determine an heir, there are other ways for you to continue your own bloodline if you wanted, but didn't want to have intercourse.. This isn't hopeless."

My best friend leans on me, dwarfing my height but easily supported by the mass that I've gained and control. He sniffles softly, his face finding its way into my spikes of soft hair.

"Time to go to bed Shikaku-kun. Okay? Ready?"

He nods, and I pull him up. He's content to place his weight onto me, so I lift him up carefully. He's too light, in my opinion, and my grip on him grows tighter as I march up the stairs. His face tucks into my neck, his slowing huffs of air tickling me as he relaxes.

I'm sent laughing as I enter his room, the familiar mess evoking a sense of nostalgia, and Shika grumbles lowly as I navigate the piles easily, and curls up into his blankets when I set him down. His tall body rolls into a small ball, hogging all the blankets as he settles into a place between the fluffy pillows.

"I'll go clean up, which guest room am I taking this time?"

"Stay with me?"

His hips crack as he rolls to face me, eyes the only thing peeking from the cocoon of blankets, still so young looking.

I nod, "Yeah, okay. I'll be back in a minute."

Imani came home, exhausted and reeking of spent blank chakra and blood, to find me sitting at the kitchen table, filling out a thick sheaf of paperwork, a heavily inked letter next to me, and the black liquid streaked over my face. He quietly unwrapped his meal, sitting where his son had hours ago, and watched as my pen scratches thin slices of ground tree determinedly.

"Are you going to tell him about the mission?"

I forced myself to keep my eyes on the papers, to keep my hand moving as I filled out form after form. The older man sighs as my writing speeds up, the end of the last page almost finished now.

"Yoshino-kun. Are you planning to leave my son with all of this? Everything? Without even a word?"

He's not the only one surprised when a scalding tear drips to the table. I scramble to wipe it away, to try to stop my hands from shaking and sobs from leaving my mouth. And it works, a herculean amount of effort being spent on the action of denial, but it works. Imani just stares, a face almost identical to his son's staring at me as I stitch myself together hurriedly.

"Imani-sama… I… I want to. I tried to. I can't."

I keep my faced downturned, unwilling to see the disappointment on the man's face, "I need you to make sure that he doesn't have to say yes, that he knows that he would get everything anyway, that he doesn't have to sacrifice that for me. Will you do that? Please, Imani-sama?"

Hands press to the top of my shoulders, and the older man presses his forehead to the top of my head, whispering a soft prayer for assistance from the spirits before pulling me to stand, a kind and warm look in his eye, "Yoshino, I promise you that I will take care of my son, just don't forget to say goodbye."

I fold in half, a sharp bow to a man I'd respected for longer than the time I'd truly known him, "Arigato."

He draws me into a hug, warm and smelling of antiseptic, "It's hard being a civilian borne that marries into a clan, but I know that you'll do great. Just make sure to stay safe, for the sake of Shika-chan."

Shikaku is long asleep when I creep into the room, but he's a light sleeper, and his eyes crack open as I begin to shuck the gear I'd been wearing all day. He yawns, gaze stuck on the quickly growing pile, "Why so much today?"

I slide into the bed, keeping a distance between us, and whisper to him, a secret shared like we're small children again, "I'm leaving for one of the extended missions at dawn."

His pale hands reach out from under the blankets to tug me closer, so that I plaster to his back, engulfing him in my arms despite the size difference. He's warm and sleep sodden still, smelling of his soap and dinner and me. "Come back?"

I lean my forehead to the back of his neck, croaking out my "_Yes, I promise you."_ as his eyes droop again, making a promise that no shinobi should, to my best friend.

Sleep does not come easy.

Leaving is no easier. In the morning, sneaking out of the bed is simple, I was requested for this mission for a reason after all, but reorganizing all the papers, and making sure that the note was the most plainly evident thing in the kitchen: that was terribly difficult.

I left unseen from my village as purple hues of dawnbreak were swallowed by dark clouds, my mood reflected in the dreariness of the weather.


	3. The End of a Mission

(This story stares Yoshino Nara as a Self Insert OC who identifies as male and is still love interests with Shikaku Nara. Yoshino is a saboteur here.)

His hands cupped my shoulders, squeezing gently, "You came back to me."

The grip was tight, desperate, and a bit painful; as if to convince himself that I wasn't a ghost, I wasn't something haunting him. He wanted to know that I was here, I did make it back from the cruel idea of a mission that was meant to kill me, that I didn't break my promise, even if I was late.

A ring on his finger glimmers as one of his hands makes an aborted movement toward my face.

I could barely step forward, but all the same, I was pushed to his chest, his arms sliding around my waist as my deadened arms draped over his shoulders, fingers grasping at his collar as he leant down, also lifting me a bit, and pressed our foreheads together.

"I did promise, didn't I?"

A near sobbing wounded sound ripped from his lips, his dark eyes squeezing shut to hold back tears. My scabbed, scarred, and broken fingers traced up the side of his cheek, an identical ring dully shining from the finger fractured the most and missing a nail. My flesh was rough against the sensitive skin of the scar that had sliced his own face, but still he leant into it as it swept away burning tears and I pressed my forehead more firmly to his.

"I came back to you. Please don't cry anymore.."

He lets me back down to my own feet, grasping the hand upon his cheek to bestow a kiss to my palm, and gifts me a tearful smile as he traces the metal band around my finger.

"Let's go home, Anata."

He didn't laugh as my legs gave out with my first excited steps, instead his brow creased with worry, and my stocky frame was completely lifted from the ground, pulling gasps of pain from me as my ribs and back screamed from the abuse. My loverboy didn't opt for the bridal hold as one would think, but instead held me like a child, encouraging my legs to wrap about his waist as he leapt to the rooftops.

I fought to restrain screams as he maneuvered the many brick laid surfaces, launching from spot to spot as my fingers dug into the skin of his neck, but it must've been the fastest trip we'd ever taken because it felt like second of agony passed and then I was on the kitchen table of his childhood home.

Flashes of metal preceded the seams of my clothes splitting and the cloth being peeled from my back. He started on the many layers of bandages after that, dismantling my armor as he became able to, the serious expression that masked his emotions becoming more and more fortified as my chest rose and fell with a feverish intensity. I arched with a whimper as he reached the last layer, my compression shirt that had long ago become something of a second skin and basically a layer of skin with how many wounds had healed with it stuck to them, and Shikaku pushed himself between my legs to keep me from scooting away, his own back bent as he slowly inched the flexible fabric away from my flesh.

I was panting as he pressed distracting kisses to the column of my neck, "Not.. how I thought the first time you undressed me would go, I have to admit."

He shook as his large and calloused hands spread over my revealed skin, each large enough to span my entire chest, but both gentle enough to cause the least pain. "You have no sense of humor Anata, no reason to attempt it, you've already caught the heir of a noble clan."

I leant back to allow him room as he pulled at the ruined parts of my skin, trying to close the large hole over my stomach, my tone growing soft as I gazed adoringly upon the man that had started learning Iryou-nin practices for his best friends when they ended up lumped together, awe driving my confusion and hesitant excitement, "Shikaku, you kept the ring and everything. Did I really catch you?"

I caught a look of frustration as his hands began to emit the soft green that spread warmth and set my nerves alight every time, but before I could apologize, he'd ducked our faces together, lips capturing mine even as he worked to heal what would definitely be a scar that stretched from my pubis past my navel and to my left clavicle.

All the sound around us disappeared, leaving only the embarrassingly wrecked whimpers that drove themselves from my vocal chords, but even those seemed to fall behind a veil that concealed the two of us in its protective hold. Years passed before the sounds of the city outside our home appeared again, Shikaku pulling away and leaving me looking up with utter terror in every line of my pupil, every pore in my skin. My heart ripped from the cavity in my chest to be laid bare before him, beating so loud that I was sure he heard and just as I thought to hide it back in the locked box of hurt that I kept faithfully hidden for years, the sun of dawn passed from the kitchen window, baptising the dark haired warborne man in brilliant, vivid reds and golden hues. His face became alight with the marks of godliness, a completely ethereal beauty awing me as his large hands slid up to cup my face. Pulling my face up toward him more as pure, unadulterated joy filled the air between us, bleeding into his expression with the ease of an old friend returning. We crashed together with the strength of opposing winds, discoveries being made as a tornado forms in our minds. Tongue and teeth and shortly scrambled for puffs of breath, smiles curling our lips, heat roaring from inside as every nip, every peck dares not go unnoticed. Fingers on the line of my jawbone lead me close to him as mine tangle in strands that hang down, tickling our faces as gravity pulls them toward the earth from his scalp.

He lets me collapse back onto the table, my lips buzzing as I fought to regain breath, only to basically fall forward onto me, arms catching him before he body slammed me, but leaving him hovering a scant inch above me as he battled the air himself.

He lays his head on the cool wood underneath us, turned toward where I've turned to look at him, "You caught me Chibi. I filed those papers you left before I'd even heard how serious the mission was, how long you would be gone.. And then.."

He shudders with the memory, slowly lowering his body to engulf mine,

"You were gone so long Chibi, so so long… We… we thought you had been captured, that you were never coming home. Kusina-chan and Minato have been demons in training…"

Tears tickle down my cheeks as the pure pain in the lines of his face intensifies.

"Okaa-chan and Oyaji were happy to hear about.. us.. though. Apparently they won a bet with Kagami-sama."

I try to crack a smile at that, "Shikaro-dono always did like me."

Air leaves him roughly as he stares at me, a sudden fire lighting his visage with the rare determination that was usually seen only in battle,

"You're not allowed to do that again, Anata, you can't disappear again, not from me."

His finger presses to my lips as I go to protest, "No Yoshino, I mean that you are not allowed to be late, okay? You have to be home on time-" Desperation fills his voice as he cups my cheek again, "-You're not allowed to leave me alone without news for so long again."

I can only nod, giving him this piece of a promise that I want to keep with every fiber of my being.

Shikaku slowly begins to stand straight, his warmth leaving me feeling so alone, but I stay laid out on the table. His hands land on my hips, thumbs gently skimming the bones that stick out as I pant.

"I'm going to pull these off too, and then we're taking a bath, yeah?"

My eyes lid against my will as I relax into his hold, "Yeah…"

First off are the ruined strips of fabric once called sandals, the next victim being my pouches, which get tossed at the couch. The loose, reinforced pants slide from my legs quickly, and soon all that has left to be taken off is the armor I wear. This is damaged beyond repair, and the hardened parts dig into my legs, causing more scratches and bruises than they now prevent. He lets out a soft sigh as he slowly works them from me, his countenance overcome with sadness and fury as each inch reveals more and more darkened bruising and deep bloody wounds.

I'm then lifted up, held again as a child as he wanders to our water closet.

"Thank you Shika."

He just lets out a hm, the edges of the deep tone cracking a bit. I settle my head down on his shoulder, the throbbing in my cranium finally getting the best of me.

When he untangles from me it's like the loss of a sense, and my entire body grieves his absence, even if he's just undressing himself.

We slid into the cold tub together, settling contentedly as water spews from the faucet. Shikaku's long limbs have to bend to fit, his knees left poking out of the water, and his back curves in an almost painful looking way, but he says nothing of discomfort and only relaxes happily underneath me.

Cups guide water to my hair and face, helping to scrub away the grime, and his fingers are careful as they work through each area with a single minded focus.

The long scratches to my scalp pull a sort of rumble from my chest as I lean into it, causing him to laugh as his fingers coat the strands in the mild smelling soap he used when off duty,

"It's gotten so long Anata… do you want to cut it again?"

He rinses the soap away, letting me feel for the full length. My dark hair now falls past my shoulders, even with the choppy and uneven edges.

"...maybe… just a little… I've never had it this long…"

He brushes it over a shoulder, laying a kiss over an old, scarred over mark, "Mikoto will be thrilled. She's always liked dressing you up."

We stayed in the sweet smelling waters till all traces of grime were gone from my body and I was mostly asleep.

The plush towel that was wrapped around me after didn't help, but the small adoring smile that Shikaku wore as I trailed after him slowly was gold that not even an unconscious man could ignore.

I wasn't lead to his old room.

Instead we walked to the master bedroom.

Gone were all the personal touches of his parents, the walls had been painted, and my heart almost lept from my chest.

His hands on my shoulders guided me forward to the bed, where the last of the drops of water were rubbed from my skin before I was pushed to the soft mattress.

He slid in a second later.

We twisted together, an old memory driving the close knot that we imitated under the covers.

It was futile to even think of resisting sleep.


End file.
